Ah, Black Friday...

An agoraphobic's worst nightmare. Especially mine... I really do not like strangers getting in my space bubble.


I am locking myself in my house, and decorating for Christmas. 


I've gone Black Friday shopping a few times with my mom (when I was much younger) but I haven't done it in years... and have no desire (or money, for that matter) to. Going out in public feels like utter chaos to me on a normal day as it is. The few times I went when I was younger, I was honestly kind of terrified. Too much.


Good luck to anyone who will be gaming up for Retail Dooms Day a week from now :) You are a much braver soul than I...

Midnight Sun: A Parallel

I feel so fucking trapped these days, and it only seems to get worse. Every. Single. Day. It's like I'm stuck in one of those rooms, where there's spikes on the walls, and they keep moving closer together. Or a lava pit in the center. Every single day, I wonder how much longer I can teeter on the edge before I fall into the lava. 



The biggest worry of all, right now, is my relationship with Vuni.


Who's read Midnight Sun? *raises hand guiltily* I'm ashamed to admit that I enjoy the Twilight series... and I've read the partial draft of Midnight Sun (Twilight from Edward's perspective) that Stephenie Meyer posted on her official website. I'm feeling a lot like Edward these days... excessively torn. 

I know I'm causing Vuni a lot of stress. I know I'm the majority of what's holding him back. I'm pretty convinced, although I haven't smoked around him (I almost never smoke anyways) or physically shoved a cigarette and lighter in his face, that I am the reason he started smoking again... after abstaining so well...



As I've said before, I feel like his parents do not think I am good enough for him (at the very least, I've been put on a pretty good guilt trip regarding not having a job by his mom...). Not only that, but recently, I've literally been having nightmares about his mom just up and chewing me out, telling me that I will never be good enough to deserve her amazing son. It's like I can never escape these thoughts of guilt, shame, and feeling worthless... not even in my sleep anymore. Horrifying.

If we didn't have financial issues (due to MY anxiety disorder), mine and Vuni's life together would be pretty darn awesome. Yes, even despite my anxiety disorder. I'm not trying to sound pessimistic, I'm being real: I don't ever remember NOT having extreme anxiety, so it's hard for me to imagine life without it. But I've had other periods of time in my life where I've been relatively happy and comfortable, despite the anxiety disorder. 

Back to my point! If we didn't have financial issues, it'd eliminate A LOT of the problems we're currently dealing with. I haven't had a job in over a year now. Believe me, I feel immensely guilty about this; EXTREMELY. Vuni doesn't even want to think about "moving forward" in life with things going the way they are now.


Which is why I feel so awful... he'd probably be better off without me.


It's painful thinking that, it's painful typing that, it's all-around unfathomable. I'm a selfish, horrible bitch for what I'm doing to him. If I were a better, selfless person, and if I truly loved him, I'd let him get on with his life, without me, the train-wreck, prisoner-to-her-own-mind. 


But I can't.


I know he has the freedom to leave; he himself has told me that he is with me because he loves me. And I'm grateful for this. I'm so thankful that he is able to love the girl behind the anxiety disorder.


Maybe this is why I like the Twilight series. Especially Midnight Sun... Edward disgusted with himself, for being a vampire and feeling undeserving of a human girl's love, but not being able to stay away from her. Not being able to walk away. Edward feeling like Bella is too good for him, and that she deserves so much more. Not having the strength to let go...
... but she loves him. She wants him; she doesn't want him to let go. 


I'm feeling pretty ashamed of myself, being that I'm comparing my life to a damn vampire romance novel, but nonetheless...


I feel very much like Edward. I can't control the fact that I have an anxiety disorder (I sure as hell didn't ask to have one, and wouldn't wish it on ANYONE).  I can control certain aspects of it (major thing I need to work on), but in the mean time, it's wreaking havoc on my life. I'm feeling utterly undeserving of the absolute most amazing person I've ever met... yet for some reason he loves me and wants me. A part of me is telling myself that he would be so much better off without me... but I know I would never have the strength to leave him. Probably because I'm too selfish... maybe because I'm too in love. 


Because I love him more than anything. He's given me strength, when I felt like I couldn't cope. He gives me a reason to keep fighting; even when I feel like it's not worth it. He constantly reminds me that yes, there is a person behind the anxiety disorder, and she is very much worth loving.


The anxiety is my midnight; he is my sun.

"My life was an unending, unchanging midnight... so how was it possible that the sun was rising now, in the middle of my midnight?"  Edward, from Midnight Sun

I'll probably write more about this (the issues between Vuni and I) at a later time, but for now, I'm pretty shocked that I was able to draw these parallels. Maybe I'm crazy. If you're feeling sappy, and are interested, here's the link to Midnight Sun. I like it much better than Twilight ;)

Suicide: From an Attemptee's Perspective, and Why It's Never Worth It

How true this meme is...


Let me start by clarifying, I'm NOT suicidal... but sadly, I've been there before.


It's the absolute worst place to be. I've never felt so hopeless, so consumed by overwhelming thoughts and pain.


It wasn't that I wanted to die. It wasn't that I wanted to hurt anyone who loved me. Quite the opposite.


I just didn't see a light at the end of the tunnel; I didn't see anything but endless pain. I didn't think my life would ever be happy and whole.


It's been over 5.5 years now, and thinking about the suicide attempt still makes me feel completely sick, in more ways than one. It's awful to think I actually did it; it's equally awful remembering what I was going through at the time.


Here's what happened in a nutshell:


It was Spring of 2006. I was living alone, a 2.5 hour drive away from home. I was 19 years old, going to school full time, and working almost full time, at a job I absolutely hated. I had one person who was a true friend... and another. An ex boyfriend. In all honesty... I had followed him.


The previous August, he and I were together. I found out he was moving away less than 3 weeks before he actually left. Our relationship (if you could call it that) was very rocky; K didn't treat me well at all, but didn't seem willing to just break up with me. I'm assuming his solution was to move away and wait until the last possible minute to tell me; I didn't even find out he was moving from him. One of his friends let it slip. K told me he didn't think he could make a long-distance relationship work, so we "separated on good terms." Being the idiot that I was, I applied to the same school, and in January, I moved up there, assuming he'd take me back. The next few months were absolute hell; I was lonely, anxious, and depressed, I was falling further and further into my eating disorder, and he was leading me on. I called K out on it once; I told him that if he was going to be playing games with me, we might as well cease contact with one another. He promised to shape up, but said he still wanted his "freedom" and didn't want to get back together "yet". Being the naive, innocent person that I was, I didn't see this as a glaring red flag.


In late April, I took a handful of Tylenol PM. I was mostly hoping it'd knock me out for a few hours, and I figured, if it did worse, then it did worse. I woke up the next day in the ICU. After all was said and done, I convinced everyone it was stupid mistake, I promised to do better, I looked into therapists and support groups, and I signed up for summer classes.


Exactly one month later, K and I were out to lunch, when he received a phone call. Whoever was on the other side, he was being very flirty with them. When he hung up, he seemed nervous, and said, "I have something to tell you..." He then proceeded to tell me that was this girl he'd been dating for the past few weeks.


I didn't feel like I could handle this. I ran, on foot. He tried to follow me, but couldn't keep up (he was wearing flip flops). After wandering around the streets for about an hour, I returned to the restaurant. He was gone, but he kept trying to call me. I kept ignoring him. I drove to a grocery store that had a Starbucks in it, purchased the largest bottle of Tylenol PM that they had, and an iced black tea. K was still trying to get ahold of me. I stopped at another store, and got a bottle of Advil PM. K was still calling. I took almost all of the pills. Finally, I answered his call; he begged me to go to his house. I don't know what made me go, but I did.


When I got there, he started crying, and saying that he was a flaky person who shouldn't be with anyone. He confessed to cheating on me (something I'd figured anyways) and was basically flipping out. He then begged me to stay at his house that night; he was going to work for the evening, and in the morning, we'd take care of things, whatever that meant. As he was leaving (I was really feeling the meds by this time), I followed him out to his car. I said, "I did something bad." He began to panic, remembering what had happened only a month ago; he grabbed me by my shoulders, and asked, "What did you do?! Tell me, what did you do?!" I stumbled over to my car, and handed him the keys. He opened it, searched frantically inside (I was really messed up by this point) and found the bottles. He pulled me into his car, and drove me to the emergency room. I spent the next three days in the ICU, the next five in a locked ward, and the day I got out... K and I talked for the last time. We agreed to cut off all contact one another. My parents brought me home that day; we returned a few days later, packed up my stuff, and I was home for good.


It's so difficult to explain everything that was going through my mind at the time. A lot of conflicting thoughts.


Bottom line was, I didn't want to die; I just had overwhelming, excruciating emotional pain that I didn't know how to deal with, and I wanted it to end.


I felt like I was failing my attempt at becoming an adult. I was torn, because for some reason I still don't understand, I was infatuated with this guy who obviously wanted nothing to do with me; he'd cheated and been emotionally abusive. The only reason he did what he did the day of the suicide attempt was out of guilt, fear, and pity. I hated how much of a fuck up I felt like, and I thought that if I no longer existed, I would be doing everyone a favor. It might be painful at first, but I figured that the "benefits" of me being gone would far outweigh this; I wouldn't be wasting anyone's money, and I'd never cause anyone pain again. But namely... I wouldn't have to deal with such feelings of being rejected, unwanted, and not enough. It was an EXTREMELY selfish thing to do... but at the time, I thought that if I was successful, it'd be better for everyone.


I also still don't know what made me follow K out to his car, and more or less confess to what I had done. The only thing I can think of is that the tiny sane part of me, deep inside, knew that I didn't want to die. Was it a desperate cry for attention? It looks that way, and maybe on some sub-conscience level, it was. At the time, up until I did "confess" to K about taking the pills, I seriously just wanted to escape from the pain I was feeling, in whatever way that may be. Perhaps because I was feeling so fucked up by that point, I realized the true seriousness of what I'd done; I knew that if K left, there would be no going back. I was losing it as it was. If he left, I would've passed out... and not woken up. 


So why am I bringing all of this up now?


Well, recently, I've been dealing with some pretty damn fucked up feelings. And a lot of pain. I feel like a worthless failure, a waste of space/air/money, a total fuck up. My anxiety gets so overwhelming, and I often feel so hopeless, I wonder if things will ever be okay. I hate dealing with this; the anxiety, the pain and guilt it brings... I feel like I am suffocating, trapped in my body. 


But I know suicide isn't the answer. I know hurting myself isn't the answer.


Even though I may often feel lonely, and trapped, I know that I have some insanely awesome people who love me, and they obviously love me for a reason. They've never given up on me; they believe in me, when I don't always believe in myself. I think I said it in my last post: I live for curling up in bed next Vuni. I know that no matter how shitty the day is- if I've had panic attacks, heard bad news, been put on a guilt trip, gotten in a fight with the mirror, felt utterly hopeless and useless... at the end of the day, I will be snuggled up, nice and warm, to the most amazing person I could ever imagine. I know that, while I am cuddled up to this utterly stunning human being, there are two people several miles away, who brought me into this world, are proud of me regardless of my fucked up past, and loved me with all of their hearts. I have a brother who has looked up to me his whole life. I have a professor who NEVER gave up on me. I have friends and family who truly care about me, even if I am flightly and strange. All of these people believe in me... even when I don't.


There's obviously a reason I'm worth caring about and believing in... even when I don't see it.


Do I have to see everything to believe in it? I wish I could- but I know I don't. At the time of my suicide attempt, I never saw myself being happy again. Low and behold, despite some of the shit I've since been through, I've also had the best times. Vuni has loved me like I never thought possible. Last year, consumed by alcoholism, I never imagined that I could go more than a day without several shots of vodka. To my immense shock, I haven't had a single drop of alcohol pass through my lips in the past 10.5 months. This summer, although I didn't show it, I often felt paralyzed with fear at the thought of another heart surgery... but I had to believe that it would be okay, and despite some complications, it was. 


This has been one of the hardest lessons I've had to learn: sometimes, life really sucks, and it doesn't look like it's ever going to get better... but I HAVE to believe that it will. Because it does. It may be slow and gradual. There may be bumps and set backs and more pain and bullshit along the way... but eventually, it does get better.

"When you reach the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on,"  Thomas Jefferson.

I read this quote a long time ago; I feel this is what I've been living every day recently. I keep thinking that I can't take anymore bad news, any more anxiety or pain or guilt... but I refuse to losen my grip. I can't let go; I won't give up.


So for those of you, like me, who feel trapped, lost, out-of-touch, overwhelmed, riddled with shame and guilt, and just aren't seeing a light at the end of the tunnel... well, remember, just because you can't see it, doesn't mean it isn't there. Just because you can't see it, doesn't mean it doesn't exist. Think about it- are you breathing right now? We don't see the very thing that is crucial to our existence, that courses through our bodies every second of every day of our lives. But it's there, just like the light at the end of the tunnel.


I've said it a gazillion times before: I have a long way to go. I have a lot of work to do. But in the mean time, I have to keep believing. I've tied a knot, and I am NOT letting go. 






Note- if you are feeling suicidal, please, please get help:

Depression Hotline: 1-630-482-9696

Suicide Hotline: 1-800-784-8433

LifeLine: 1-800-273-8255

Trevor Project: 1-866-488-7386

Sexuality Support: 1-800-246-7743

Eating Disorders Hotline: 1-847-831-3438

Rape and Sexual Assault: 1-800-656-4673

Grief Support: 1-650-321-5272

Runaway: 1-800-843-5200, 1-800-843-5678, 1-800-621-4000

Exhale: After Abortion Hotline/Pro-Voice: 1-866-4394253

Celebrating An Outstanding Man :)

Today was a bittersweet day that *should* have been just sweet. Today is my dad's birthday... last year of his 40s ;)


My dad was only 23 years old when I was born, and had been married for over 2 years. I'm trying to fathom that. I know that there are plenty of people that age and younger, getting married and having kids, but it's different when you're thinking about your parents I guess. It's hard to imagine my dad, younger than I am now, celebrating his 24th birthday with 2 month old me; I'd have a 16 month old right now, had I had a child at his age when I was born! Incredible!


I admire my dad so much... for both the person and father that he is. I couldn't imagine a better dad; he isn't perfect, of course, BUT- what's important is, he's loved myself, my brother, and my mom unconditionally, and that's a "perfect" father to me. He's sacrificed so much for us. He's put up with SO MUCH bullshit... and never given up on any of us. He never asks for much... a good part of why today was bittersweet. I couldn't afford to buy him a birthday present :( Vuni ordered him something, and I am grateful we will be able to give him a small present here in a few days, but...


...it makes me so sad that I couldn't spoil him and shower him in gifts, like I should have been able to. It reminds me even moreso of where I am in life. I feel broken. Unsuccessful. A major fuck-up. And it breaks me... because I'm one of the things that makes my dad happiest. I can't help but worry that I'm making him sad, however, because of how screwed up I am. He knows how hard I'm trying; and he's told me more than once that I'm one of the strongest people he's ever known, but what do I have to show for it? I still depend on him and my mom in so many ways: financially, emotionally, medically... and I shouldn't. I want to make him proud so badly, but more than just proud, I want him to be reassured. Reassured that I can and WILL make it. 


I suppose this is one of those things that is giving me strength right now. I keep telling Vuni, "one of these days, I'm going to crack; I can't take more bad news, I can't take more shit going wrong, if something doesn't change, I'm going to fucking snap and do something stupid."


But I haven't yet. Somehow, every single time I have a panic attack, every time I melt down and become hysterical, and get tempted to do something like punch the wall or self-harm, at the last minute, I stop and rationalize. It takes everything I have... and my dad is one of those things. He, my mom, Vuni, my brother, the pets... I think of them. How desperately I want to be strong for them; how much more I'd hate myself if I keep hurting them. THAT is what keeps me grounded... that's what gives me the power to keep going, even when I'm exhausted from fighting and want to give up. 


I've said it before, and I'll say it again: I will probably never be normal. I never have been, and I do not know what it's like to live without anxiety, so there will always be somewhat of a battle for me... but my dad deserves a little fighter, not someone who's going to give up or run away. He has never given up; that means that I have no excuse to. So I won't.


Even though he doesn't ask for much... I hope a fighting me is enough. I'm trying, Daddy... I promise.


Despite all of these thoughts swirling around my frazzled mind, and wishing things were different, I was happy to enjoy a lovely evening of good home made food, Penny cuddling, and poker with my 3 favorite people.

Dad & His Littlest, Miss Penny

Happy Birthday, Dad. I love you <3

P.S.- Despite the lack of gift, I did happen to make and decorate this totally awesome carrot cake! :-)

Prisoner To Yourself...

For awhile now, I've been trying to pinpoint a certain time that I could say I became agoraphobic, but I haven't been able to.

The fact of the matter is, I've always been agoraphobic; it has affected me my whole life, sometimes being more severe, other times allowing me to be slightly more social and have more of a "normal" life. But it seems that, even at the best of times, I would find myself waging an internal battle: These people are good people; they're your "friends." They want to hang out with you; if you give them a chance, if you go have a good time with them, you'll start learning to trust them... No, no, you need to stay home, where it's safe. They don't really like you; they'll get to know you then stab you in the back. Getting closer to them isn't even worth trying.

It seems that when I first graduated from high school, I was bolder, and more willing to trust people. I was glad to leave the world of high school behind; to me, it was an experience worth forgetting as soon as possible. I felt invisible, trapped in a sea full of immature assholes who thought popularity meant royalty. Yeah right, jackasses; like something as being voted "Prettiest Eyes" or "Cutest Couple" is going to matter in the real world.

Turns out, I was the one who wasn't prepared for the real world.

It's funny, as a teenager I had desperately hoped that once I entered the "adult world," I'd discover that people are mature and respectable; I thought they'd be moral and ethical, honest, and generally try to do the right thing. I thought high school drama would be a thing of the past.

The older I get, the more disappointed I become; the more experiences I have, the more I want to hide in my house, safe and far away from the rest of the human race. The hard part is, this means I trust almost no one... which, while it's never made life easy, it's making life really difficult and frustrating right now.

I heavily rely on my parents and Vuni; they're the only people I call and text on a daily and regular basis. They're my three best friends, and it scares me because I really do not know what I'd do without them. As you can probably imagine, this poses a big problem when they're not available or accessible. Here's examples of, just in the past 24 hours, how that works:

Last night, Vuni had another gig at the fair, so I was home alone. I was having a pleasant enough evening... until I discovered cat pee, yet again. EmmaBear has been good all week about going in her box, so I was pretty distraught. I looked at the clock, wanting to call my mom and cry, but it was already around 10:30, so I knew she'd be asleep... and since I'd called her at work earlier that week, and my dad had scolded me for it not being an emergency (Yes it's a fucking emergency! I was about to punch a hole in the wall!) UGH. And I couldn't call Vuni, because even if he did check his phone in between songs, it wasn't like he could tell his band members and the crowd, "Sorry, gotta take ten, my girlfriend is on the phone having a nervous meltdown.

So here I was, in a "dangerous place," with no one to rescue me; no one to guide me out. It's times like these that controlling urges is the hardest. In the very early stages of my recovery from alcoholism, I never imagined that I would eventually get to a place where I didn't think about alcohol on a regular and daily basis... but I did. In general, I don't think about it, nor do I crave it. Last night, however, I wanted it. I wanted to feel my body heat up as the alcohol coursed through my veins, burning away the pain and erasing the anxiety.


I was also craving an Icee like nobody's business.


After clean up duty and locking EmmaBear in "timeout", I figured I'd go get my Icee then maybe try to find something interesting on Netflix. I hopped in my car, and started to drive to the convenience store down the street. On my way, I passed a liquor store... and thought about how wonderful it would be to stop in, buy a small bottle of vodka, and pour it into my Icee. Just a small one; just for tonight. Vuni wouldn't be home for another 1.5 to 2 hours; I'd be long passed out by then. The thoughts were so strong, I actually slowed down while passing the liquor store...


But no. I have worked so hard to stay sober. I've been sober for 9.5 months; I can't throw away almost a year of sobriety for one night of numbness. 


Plus... why would i want to ruin a perfectly good green apple Icee with something that tastes like poison? ;)

Obviously not green apple ;) This is a cherry one from a few nights ago.

I returned home, watched some Blue Planet (which I've lost count how many times I've seen at this point), spun my legs for a bit as I sipped my Icee, then retired to the couch and waited for Vuni to come home.


It scares me how close I came to slipping; it makes me angry that it takes so much work, so much internal battling, to keep myself from resorting to a negative coping method. It also sucks that everything seems likes an internal battle to me; if I want more friends, if I want to be closer to people, why the hell can I not just let go and make it happen? Instead of torturing myself, instead of coming close to slipping, why couldn't I have called someone up and vented, or begged them to ramble about something just to take my mind off of things?


Because as much as I hate to admit this, it's kind of stating the obvious anyway... my extreme dependency puts a lot of pressure on my parents and Vuni; this morning proved so. I desperately wanted to vent to my mom about what happened, but when I tried to call her, she didn't answer her phone. It took over an hour before she finally answered (no, I was not calling the whole time, just every now and then). By this time, I was grumpy. Angry about the previous night's events, angry that my mom was not around when I needed her. Yet when I got off the phone with her, I was sad. I can't stand to be mad at her, my dad, or Vuni; I can't stand when they're angry with me. Because then who do I turn to?


Agoraphobia and anxiety really do suck :( Not only do they keep you a prisoner in your own home... they keep you a prisoner to yourself.